


Meryl Gear Solid

by LesLoli



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: 140.15, CD case, F/M, For Want of a Nail, fwoan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-23 19:43:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 11,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4889692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LesLoli/pseuds/LesLoli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Solid Snake tries and fails his mission objectives in Shadow Moses. With both his targets dead, he was told to carry out one last mission.</p><p>Follow his successor in what could have happened if David never found the back of that CD case. A continuous WIP, don't expect such a lust for professional literary composition.</p><p>Rated specifically for ages (12-21). Stop reading now if you are not in this age group.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kochira Suneiku

Shivering in the cold glow of the computer screen, Solid Snake felt the cold Aleutian air start to seep in. He had failed his mission, and all he could do now was wait. Wait for something to happen.

From the desktop clock, he noticed the time was 08:24, well past the 18 hour deadline enacted yesterday at noon.

()()()()()()()()

At the southwest corner of an underground dock, a man in a dark indigo bodysuit emerged from the water. Peaking his head above the water line, his scuba mask scanned the area for a gameplan. The masked man surfaced onto the concrete landing. 

_140.85_

_"This is Snake. Colonel, can you hear me?"_

"Loud and clear. Age hasn't slowed you down one bit...."

With that, Solid Snake began his mission on a crawl. Vastly outgunned and numerically overwhelmed, he would need to stealthily sneak past the guards here, under water tanks, and over compromising puddles.

Solid firstly reached the platform to the east and noticed a perfectly good ration in the water directly below his position. As he retraced his steps back to his starting point, Snake spotted an enemy combatant on his way west and another closing in up north. Being trapped at a crossroads, Snake made an executive decision, and tried to dive off the gap in the railing, only to feel a force blocking his way.

"What is this? Why can't I jump?" Was it mental? No, he knew about the anti-freezing peptides Dr. Hunter injected him with after she insisted on stripping his clothing down to the genitals.

She did a thorough and hands-on verification of all surfaces of Solid Snake's body to ensure near zero thermal conductivity through the skin in extreme cold; thus she used her own hands to check that his armpits, inner thighs, perineum, lower and upper torso, neck, and then face were all up to the task of swimming unassisted in sub-Arctic seawater up to the infiltration point.

The presence he felt now preventing him from diving into the water did not even feel physical, as none of his senses gave feedback on what it could be. Neither wind nor netting nor a tension force pulling him from behind could be determined. With enough deliberation, Snake rushed back to the southeast, and did what he did best, crawl and hide.

The two guards apparently hadn't spotted him, and could be seen exchanging acknowledging nods, then with one heading into the interior and the other coming by his vicinity. This latter guard stared back where Snake had swum from, and momentarily enjoyed the view of the cave mouth.

From there begins the air bubble this entire cargo bay was built in, and the soldier - previously having worked with a geoscience firm for seven years until he got laid off ten months ago - inwardly shivered at what would happen if this giant cavity were to have its waters rise to sea level.

_Achoo!!_

And that was that. The guard went back north up the long corridor towards what Snake could see was a forklift. Abandoning the ration, Snake elected to follow the terrorist soldier right on his tail, which is often the safest place for an intruder to be during a set patrol route.

_That is until he decides to look back._ Past a corner, the guard stopped in his set track and about faced to the left. Snake put his defenses up and was ready to engage in close quarters battle (CQB), but felt silly as the guard simply continued on his way west and unknowingly avoided confrontation.

Luckily, the Alaskan midday darkness was getting the better of everyone in this place, and Snake's stealth went by without a hitch. He took this chance to lay low behind the forklift, almost falling asleep waiting for the elevator to arrive. He heard the alarms ringing for the next arrival of a guard, and so he stayed hidden behind the conveniently parked forklift. After a couple guards met and then dispersed, he took the ration nearby and ascended to surface level.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Unceremoniously dropping his scuba gear on the rising elevator platform, Snake patiently awaited the stop at ground zero level. During this time, Snake finally rifled through his inventory to see what little he was able to carry with him. As a procure on site specialist (POS), Snake usually had a paltry loadout and would collect more useful items as he went on, which was really the most consistent fun he could have on these missions.

He had the ration he picked up, a telescoping pair of binoculars, and the carton of smokes he smuggled out in his stomach, the last of which he had a clairvoyant feeling that he would spend the rest of the mission enjoying.

As soon as he began feeling frost, he quickly took in his situation and surroundings.

Ration in a natural hole-in-the-wall to the left. Head-high fence up in front that led to a heliport. Cargo crates strewn all about the base exterior. Higher elevation snow plain to his right. Sheer cliff to his backside. Snake surveys a face of weak rock ready to collapse at any time to his northeast in the distance, but for now he will leave it be.

After the quick analysis, Snake hugged the crate closest to the cargo lift, and peered over the side to find a gang of white camo guards escorting a blond man in a brown trenchcoat.

The very same whose voice he listened to on his way up the cargo dock but couldn't make the words out as they were garbled by the water Snake was under by the time the conversation ended.

_A Hind D?_

_Colonel, what's a Russian gunship doing here?_


	2. A Hind D?

_140.96_

_"This is Mei Ling. Nice to meet you, Snake. Take a look at your Soliton radar. The bright dot in the middle is you, and the blue cone is the field of vision of the genome soldiers. All heartbeats are registered as blinking dots, so you can see who or what could be a threat to you on your way."_

With that pertinent briefing and the heli finally clearing the area, Solid Snake checked his scope to look for points of infiltration. The front gate is clearly sealed, the first floor vent is guarded by a curiously still guard and metal contraption above him with a green LED, and the second floor vent could not be seen from ground level.

He would have to sneak east to the stairs to get a better vantage. On his way north hugging the wall of the landing pad, a white soldier appeared from behind a crate up in the snow bank.

Snake did what he did best in situations like this, crawl. Just as the white BDU concealed the soldier in the snow, the dark sneaking suit concealed Snake on the darken earth bordering the landing pad. The elevation change did not hurt Snake's chances either.

Hurrying by, Snake reached the stairs only to see something he did not miss at all. 

_A surveillance camera? [whirr]_

Snake carefully stalked under the camera up the stairs, and checked his corners for any sentries. As he made his way through the walkway, he jumped into the alcove to his right as soon as the blue cone of a soldier came bustling in his direction.

Able to also see the faint green outline of the vent adjacent to his position, he allowed the soldier to bumble past and crawled into the ventilation shaft on the 2nd floor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Snake crawled through the dark, dank space for an unspecified amount of time.

_141.80_

_"Snake, this is McDonell Kazuhira Miller. It's been a long time. I know more about Alaska than you, so call me if you have questions about the flora and fauna there. If you're on the ground level, you may see some Alaskan field mice, who can help guide you to shelter."_

The welcome advice would serve him well some other time. Luckily he had avoided any detection by the guards on his own, and Snake listened in on the guards conversing below the grate he loomed over.

"They're about to start spraying for rats, right? What about the DARPA chief in the 1st floor basement?"

"He'll be fine, keeping company with the woman in the cell. We're going to seal all the vents as soon a we're done with checking for vermin."

Taking the hint, Snake hurried all the way to the end of the vent and ignored the ration at the tail end before the guards made good on their word.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Snake checked around the corner to see some chaff grenades, and carefully passed the camera in the other corner. He noticed his steps made chiclet sounds as he trampled by on the girders. Snake decided to employ a veteran move, and constantly unequipped and reequipped his grenades to break out into a run without making a sound. Finishing his route, he zoomed under the second camera's blindspot and down the steps.

He clicked the elevator once and heard absolutely nothing happen, so he clicked it again and suddenly the doors flew open. He made his way in and pressed B1.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_140.85_

_"Snake, this is Naomi Hunter. Those green dots in that cell to your left indicate the nanomachines of the DARPA chief, Donald Anderson. Be careful, as I can see there's another person to his adjoining cell and another in what appears to be a water closet."_

The electronic door to Snake's left would have been the most expedient route to the chief, but there was no way for him to open that door. He made his way to the end of the hallway, crawled down to pick up a ration in the small vent intrusion, and approached the ladder.

_140.85_

_"Snake, it's Roy Campbell._

_"If you want to go up or down a ladder, just press the Action Button by the ladder."_

_................_


	3. Press the Action Button

Snake crawled through the claustrophobia-inducing vents, and came across a grate. Peering in he saw a soldier lulling in the toilet. He said to himself, "Man I hate Alaska. That damn cold. But boy, oh boy, was that woman built alright. I wouldn't hesitate of she gave me an opening."

Thankfully, the soldier didn't stay on the toilet to tend to another bodily function, and left the commode. Snake mirrored the soldier's action and went on his way as well.

After backtracking and trying the other route in, he came across another grate. In it he could see a woman in surprisingly just a black tank top and olive drab pants, keeping herself busy with twisting sit-ups. "Is that a woman? Not him [the DARPA chief]."

Just after he passed by, the woman decided to drop her pants and stuff them in the port hole in her cell door. She then began stretching her hamstrings with standing leg splits on the wall, in just her white panties. She planned to do one-armed pushups next. 

After her first cycle, she lay on the bed and felt the cool, dry air wick away the moisture she was building in between her thighs, and snagged her underwear to the side just a peek, enough for her vulva to feel the frigid air.

Though it would be unsanitary to use her fingers in her current predicament, there was no good reason not to indirectly pleasure herself by spreading her legs and labia on her bed to watch the steam rise out of her exposed vagina. If she hadn't undergone psychotherapy to extinguish her lust for males, she would be embarrassed if a man were to see her clitoris perking up with every literally arousing moment.

"Get your pants out of the porthole, you dumb goo-" As the guard punched her pants back into the cell, he peered in and couldn't believe his eyes. He felt his body reflexively react to the visual stimuli he uncovered. The two were frozen in time, barred by cold, electronic steel, waiting for the other to just move so time could flow again.

The guard made the first move. He opened the cell door and walked in.

++++++++++++++++

"Who-who's that??" the man in the cell exclaimed in a hushed voice.

Solid Snake unhinged the grate in the ventilation shaft he had navigated, and slithered out of it into a dead hang, before dropping gingerly into the filthy cell.

"You're the DARPA chief, Donald Anderson, right? I'm getting you out of here."

"Yeah that's me," said the DARPA chief (George Byrd), "What did your superiors tell you about this place?"

"How the hell should I know? I'm the worthless pawn they sent to save your butt," said Snake; there was a dismissive pride in the way he self-deprecated himself. There was also a faint sound emanating from the next cell over, much like labored breathing, but Snake reserved that detail for mulling over later.

"Are you sure they didn't tell you anything?" asked Anderson. "I just said, 'No,'" Snake tersely replied. Now the tertiary source of noise escalated to exacerbated grunting accompanied by mattress springs coming to life.

"You sure you didn't hear anything like, the White House giving into the terrorists' demands, or about the detonation codes, or-

"Ahh! Why, meee?!" Anderson exclaimed unrestrained. He clutched his breast as if suffering from a stroke or a heart attack. The sounds of muffled pounding from the adjacent cell were snuffed by the almost theatrical, dying gasps of Anderson. He reached out toward Snake, pleading wordlessly for him to do something, until he collapsed.

"What the hell," mumbled Snake.


	4. What the Hell

Snake just stood there, clearly flabbergasted at what just transpired. There at his feet lay the DARPA chief, dead from what appeared to be a heart attack. And so Snake did what he thought would be best in any such situation - he took a knee.

He then lay on his stomach with his chest up on the simultaneously crusty and moist cell floor, which actually had a nice ration floating around under the bed rack. Killing two birds he made his way under the bed when he heard murmurs and newer noises from that cell he had been ignoring for some time. 

================

Meryl leapt out of her cell in full Next Generation Special Forces battle dress uniform (BDU). She heard the commotion in the neighboring cell, so she decided to see what was going on. Now that she was in a much better predicament than she was before in the cell, she had to give thanks to Johnny Sasaki, if his name was to be believed.

"Is that a FAMAS?" Meryl wondered aloud as she saw the stocky black rifle propped with muzzle up in the corner to her left. Depressing the mag release behind the grip, Meryl checked how many cartridges were extant in the bullpup's magazine.

The 25-round mag felt full and weighty, and did not rattle much as she shook it in all three orthonormal directions. Were she not in a hurry, she would strip a single cartridge to push its end down into the rounds of the magazine to see how many more cartridges would be needed to fill it up. Nevertheless, she assumed a full 25 count for her current magazine; if she recalled correctly, the last three cartridges would become a burst of tracer rounds, being both a boon and a detriment to her since tracers work both ways.

She set the mag into its well, slapped it firmly from the bottom up, and pulled the charging handle under the giant sight enclosure back, to release it forward. She noticed no round ejected out the right side of her check weld.

_There wasn't even a round in the chamber already?_

Seems Sasaki felt safe in the time he spent guarding her. "That's reassuring," Meryl quipped. She looked back once more at the man who has now involuntarily and unconsciously replaced Meryl's place in her bed. 

Her vision selectively went fuzzy where the man's genitals lay, with him stuck in an awkward butts-up position. Were she and he switched in genders, this would be a prime predicament for the male her to ravish such a vulnerable piece of meat presenting itself. Fortunately, she had something else to occupy her attention.

Meryl shouldered le FAMAS on her left to peer around the corner to her right. Realizing the easy mistake operators can make with bullpups, she switched shoulders back to her right and made her way to the opposite side of the doorway.

When she was good and ready, she let loose the electronic lock on the target cell, and hugged the wall to wait for the perpetrators to come out.

A man peered his head out and to his left. "Don't move!" Meryl shouted. She thought she saw Liquid Snake, but realized this man had short, dark brown hair and a peculiar bandana.

Peeking in, Meryl saw the sprawled body on the ground. "So you killed the DARPA chief. You bastard!"

Notliquid tried to make a move. "I said don't move!!!" Meryl squeaked out. She couldn't believe how hard her hands were trembling. She learned all about combat high in Virtual Reality training, but she would later realize this was due to stress and lowered psyche, not to mention low stamina from not having a post workout meal. _Maybe I should have taken even more advantage of Johnny while I had the chance._

"Is this the first time you've held a gun? Your hands are shaking," said Snake coolly.

"Careful, I'm no rookie. I'm a ten month vet," Meryl retorted.

"Liar. Those are rookie eyes if I've ever seen them. You haven't even taken the safety off," Notliquid spat.

Maybe I should have gotten those transplants after all, thought Meryl, as she looked at the fire selector of her assault rifle to see it was on the white S instead of any of the red indicators.

Just then that sneaky snake put his hand to his haunch, but did not pull anything. The man's face seemed to deflate at what was probably an empty holster, and he seemed to be trying to reach out for the barrel of Meryl's rifle with his left.

Selecting to Fire, Meryl finally put her finger on the trigger with such an overt display of aggression and commanded him, "Don't move! You have the key don't you?"

By then there was a strike team already listening in at the Lv. 1 door leading into the whole detainment room.

"Why?" "So we can get the hell out of here!"

Just then the door behind Meryl slid open and out came three armored troops aiming their arms at the two in their standoff.

Notliquid Snake mumbled something unintelligible at this, something about looks-like-we're-too-late-to do whatever, and finally clearly yelled, "What are you waiting for? Shoot!"


	5. What Are You Waiting For?

Meryl turned and saw the exact replica of one of the VR missions she completed, one where three insurgents pointed weapons at her. In that simulation, there was cover and a wide enough berth to facilitate flanking, not to mention the weapons the terrorists carried were a handgun, shotgun, and rifle. Instead she found herself in this very real situation.

Three, _armored_ soldiers, with select-fire assault rifles, aiming in female V-formation at her in an enclosed space with no obstacles between them.

Tactics and strategy flew in her face and out the nonexistent window. Her strength advantage was rendered useless. There was no exit strategy. Ducking into one of the cells would make her a juicy target for grenade flushing.

She would need to fight to continue existing. And that scared her insensate.

On her right was Notliquid, flying past her and toward some guns and ammo lying about in the brig common area. The man pulled out the USP-like handgun and fired into their assailants.

.45 inch caliber American Colt Pistol bullets met Next Gen Spec Forces uniforms, then flesh, then bone and sinew in a matter of milliseconds. Each victim of gun violence met their gun deaths with unity accuracy and four rounds per center of mass. With all twelve rounds spent, the surprising, sneaky snake loaded a new mag and yelled out to her, "What are you waiting for? Shoot! I'm telling you, shoot!"

"Don't talk to me like a rookie!" Meryl yelled out; as another fire team rushed in, she belted an extended argh! as she pumped round after round in fully automatic "assault weapon" fire at the poor guards who didn't do nothing but run into the room trying to kill everyone inside.

They could have all grown up to go to college and have been contributing members of society; instead they ended up dead, all because of this gun-woman.

Almost chilled at the horrific levity that came too easily at a time of crisis like this, Meryl released the mag to reload. Thankfully, Johnny at least followed protocol and set his magazines on the left side of the belt and vest compartments of Johnny and Meryl's BDU.

Unfortunately, Meryl did not see the grenades thrown in until one bounced off her feet. She dove into a cell and oriented her feet toward the blasts; they went off and she was safe from harm.

As she got up, she was unsure whether or not she should hope the sticky substances on the floor in her cell were the bodily fluids of the previous occupants, herself, or Sasaki, possibly intermingled with her own.

Speak of the devil, he woke up just now. "What the hell are you doing?" he shouted at Meryl. He clung to the sheets Meryl used to use to cover his nude body, not from her but from the general situation.

"Stay down, Johnny, and stand down. I'm getting out of here," Meryl assured. She could see and hear the other man firing at the intruders, and made the decision to ally herself with him for the time being.

She fired short bursts as she was trained to do virtually from birth, from full auto no less. She aimed at each enemy quickly with the front sight to pop off a few rounds, and moved the front sight again to the neighbouring target.

Wave after wave came into the area like a videogame, trying her resolve and forcing her to question what she was fighting for. Was it her pride as a soldier? And if so, to whom?

Her father whom she never knew. Her uncle. Her estranged mother. The kids she grew up with that refused to understand her. The soldiers who wouldn't get close to her for a multitude of reasons. The compatriots she found a place with, specially selected for VR training. The ones that didn't make the cut. The ones that did. The ones that weren't sent to Shadow Moses to babysit nukes to be dismantled. The ones who found out the real function of this facility. The ones who revolted with her. The ones who didn't but were still sympathetic. Johnny Sasaki. The string of non-existent lovers whom she fancied she deserved by now. The snake she was fighting alongside.

But most importantly, herself. She didn't believe in karma, since she knew first-hand that what happens happens for no other reason than the direct cause that effects it. She didn't believe in an afterlife, so she refused to be a victim to circumstance, thus she picked up the way of the gun to at least live the way she wanted without fear.

Now it's her time to live or die.... No - that's not right - now it's her time to _choose_ to live or die. 

She fired at the last of the guards until the alarm was over, and everything came back to realtime. No more fight or flight stress responses, no more near death experiences or epiphanies. She strutted out the door in the most natural gait she could consciously generate. She forced herself to manually breathe the smell of victory.

Sweeping her muzzle throughout the hallway, she turned around and told off the snake, "Thanks for the help!" She took her leave toward the elevator lift and called for it to go anywhere but here. 

"Wait!" he called out. She pointed her rifle at the encroaching man to halt his movements, but he wouldn't stand for that display of aggression, and so she fired a single round at him.

He action dove and action rolled back into the holding cells to avoid the trajectory of Meryl's bullet, and she closed the elevator doors, she could make out his last words to her: "Who are you?".

_{hiss...}"Good girl. Just like that. Yesss...."{hiss...}_


	6. Good Girl; Just Like That

Snake stayed low, and peered out the doorway to see Meryl had left the area. There was no reason for him to stay any longer; he had to find President Kenneth Baker of ArmsTech.

Back in the holding area, Snake examined the late DARPA chief on the floor in the left cell, whereupon he found a Personal Area Network keycard that said Level 1. 'Wish I'd asked him where they were keeping the other hostage,' he thought to himself. Strange - at the time, he was sure he was in for an earful as soon as he neared the chief's vent grate. Everything felt off as soon as he passed by...

Snake shook himself away from entering a line of thought for that woman. He tried his best to ignore the concern that he began to feel for such a reckless young rookie, but he needed to get to the ArmsTech president before he was compromised.

With the level 1 card in his grasp, he went downstairs to basement level 2 by elevator to continue his investigation.

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

Snake strangely felt no human presence on this floor. He stayed in the northern row and strafed east to west to survey the columns; he spotted absolutely no one. 

He went to each supply depot and found his key only worked with two of the closed doors: one stocked with C-4 and another with pineapple grenades. In an open door lay ammunition for his Mk. 23.

Passing by the southwest corner, Snake noticed the discoloration of the wall. Flattening himself against it, he rapped it harshly and was rewarded with a dull, almost wet sound.

Setting the plastic explosive on the wall, Snake gave the bomb plenty of berth and triggered the detonator. After the first boom, Snake went further along the hastily obstructed path and repeated the steps again, and again, and once more.

The last room had gun turrets, but the penultimately discovered room had his objective right there in plain sight.

There stood Baker, in a precarious position up against the central pillar. Snake came up to it and wondered aloud, "Am I too late?" The man in the dusty hued trench coat, white dress shirt and red tie, and coyote brown suit pants and jacket uttered a small moan.

"He's alive," Snake reassured himself, "You're the ArmsTech president Kenneth Baker, right? Don't worry, I'm here to save you."

Baker groaned as Snake approached him, but mumbled out, "No, don't touch it!" Snake found the wires stringing Baker up connected to explosives around all four supporting pillars. "C-4!!"

An audible click was heard, but before a bang and ricochet could also be unleashed into the airwaves, Snake flew up and backwards into the air to dodge the sneak shot.

"Ha, right. Touch that wire, and the C4 will blow up along with the old man," said a gravelly-voiced man from behind Baker, "So _you're_ the one that the Boss keeps talking about." Snake retorted, "And you?"

A dusty-looking man with silver hair and moustache appeared from behind another pillar. He held the smoking gun in his right hand and kept it at hip height leveled at Snake. "Special Operations FOXHOUND. Revolver Ocelot."

The old man twirled his namesake weapon upside and down, in-side to out-side. "I've been waiting for you, Solid Snake. Now we'll see if the man can live up to the legend," Ocelot said.

He patted the barrel onto his left hand, and began stroking it caringly. "This is the Colt Single Action Army, the greatest handgun ever made."

He opened the loading gate on the right side of the rear of the cylinder housing. Tilting the entire weapon system back, he rotated the cylinder and pumped the ejection rod down to the hilt, released it back up, and drove it down hard again six times in practiced, rhythmic succession. If he hit cylinder instead of brass with the pumping ejection rod, no one was the wiser.

"Six bullets. More than enough to kill anything that moves." Ocelot inserted six cartridges into each chamber of the cylinder, closed the loading gate, and half-spun the weapon barrel down into its holster. "Now I'll show you why they call me... Revolver...."

He stood with both hands neutral, and stared Snake down. When four beats of the heart were counted down, he brought his hand to his weapon of choice and yelled, "Draw!"


	7. Six Cartridges

"Draw!" Revolver yelled again. Snake ducked behind a support beam and readied his Mk. 23. He heard no footsteps from the gunslinger, and surmised he was going to fire again on the spot. Snake dropped to a knee straight away and narrowly dodged a bullet fragment aimed for his head.

"Hiding won't help you. I understand the bullets you see; I make them go where I want. ◘"

Ricochets. Funny how the French thought of so many combat terms. Did they invent them or were they victims of these then-unnamed proofs of concepts?

Snake darted to another corner of the room to get a better angle on his opponent. Ocelot mirrored his movement, and fired off the remainder of his rounds seemingly carelessly.

However, not only did Revolver never hit Baker in the middle, but also he came close to hitting Snake with all six shots. Snake began capitalizing on this lull in action, but Ocelot was already on the move and loading new cartridges.

"I love to reload during battle. There's nothing like the feeling, of sliding a long silver bullet, into a well greased chamber." The mustachioed gunman was clearly having a ball. Expertly, he ejected six spent casings individually, and loaded a fresh cartridge from bandolier to loading port without stuttering his hands.

"Alright, I'm alive again. ◙" Another crack of the air, and Snake also fired back. The tense mèlêe felt no different from wading through the crowded dance hall of a discotheque, rave, or night club, while hopped up on the illicit substance provided by the scene; one had to navigate by feel and taste of the air rather than by any sight or hearing or smell as those sensory inputs would be overloaded.

One could only hope to find what they were looking for when they got into this mess, while at any time silently expecting that fatal prick in the back of your neck, that could at the very least ruin your night.

"Better hurry up. The old man's not gonna last too long." Snake fired another double-tap for every single bang from the spry Ocelot.

"Don't you want to settle this?" By now, dozens of shots were fired on both literal sides of the battleground. The smell of impending victory and defeat hung heavily in the air.

"I love the smell of cordite. You know, that sulfury smell?"

BANG

And another cloud of carcinogenic smells joined the foray.

"But to you, it'll be the smell of your own death."

But just then, Solid Snake violently rounded the corners and fired once at Revolver.

URMF

The shot hit home. Ocelot retaliated immediately, but Snake was too slippery as he pirouetted on the spot to dodge the center of mass shot that Revolver took; Solid reshot again, again, again, and again and again.

Revolver capitulated and fled into a corner. " _You're pretty good._ Just what I'd expect from the man with the same code as the Boss." He still continued to reload as he wondered if his plate carrier caught all six rounds on his chest and back.

"It's been a long time since I had such a good fight, but I'm just getting warmed up." Revolver Ocelot thought back on his time spent fighting all over the world, and always drifted back to the greatest soldier he ever faced and stood by.

He was thankful to both his mother's genes and his beloved's memes for the quick reflexes and head movement Ocelot developed and implemented to literally save his own neck; it's the reason why he dodged all of this current reincarnation of Snake's headshots.

As he jumped into battle with a nostalgic smile, something blurry sliced past his field of vision. A red mist sprayed from his right hand, which was now his right stump. "My hand!"


	8. My Hand!

The fiendish blur zipped to and fro between the support pillars, slashing the thin trip wires to the emplaced C4 charges all around Kenneth Baker in the middle. Losing all hope in surviving the blast, the ArmsTech president completely let go and crumpled to the ground. To his surprise, there was nothing to show his descent, and he hit the concrete right away; a moment later, the explosives detonated.

Only a fraction of the placed bombs blew, but it was enough to send Ocelot into the opposite wall. With no fragmentation, the plastic explosive was purely shockwave based, but would leave disastrous evidence inside the bodies of anyone in its wake. Though everyone in the room felt the blast, the close by Revolver Ocelot took the brunt of it.

Looking up and still clutching his severed hand, he saw the warped outline move toward Solid Snake. "Stealth camouflage? Can't you even die right? You were lucky! We'll meet again!" And with that, the one-armed bandit fled the scene.

"Who are you?" Snake brought his .45cal up to the transparent figure before him.

Out of thin air appeared a slate armor plated ninja with a nodachi held underhand, "I'm like you, I have no name." The reverberating, tinny voice of the Cyborg Ninja (George Byrd) was uncanny, and Snake could not put his finger on the origin of that voice.

"That exoskeleton!" Baker outed himself as safe and alive with his incredulous exclamation.

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

The Ninja seized up and shook his head violently, petrifying everyone in the room. At that, the queer warrior leapt out into the darkness of the walls, and left just an echo of his presence in his wake.

"Who the hell?" Snake, with his sidearm pointed down in a safe direction and finger straight, sauntered over to Baker.

"Can you talk?" Snake asked.  
"Who are you?" Baker replied shakily.  
"I'm not one of them." Snake reassured.  


"Oh I get it, Jim sent you. You're from the Pentagon!" Baker riled up.  
"What about your code? There's no time." Snake got right to the point.  
"I... talked...." Baker conceded.  


"What? Now the terrorists have both codes and they could launch anytime!" Snake couldn't believe his luck. Nothing was going right for him, even if he knew he shouldn't expect it to be for this type of mission.

"I put up a good fight, but I never received training on how to withstand physical torture...." Baker stared at his broken arm and limp leg. "He did a number on you alright. But at least he's got a hand missing. I'd say you're about even," Snake quipped.

"Oh you're a funny one. I-in any case, he may be a sadist, but he's a proud one. It took hours for him to crack me, and he never left the room. They couldn't have tortured Donald, did they?" Kenneth inquired.

"No, but why not? He was unharmed and in okay shape when I got to him. But the DARPA Chief said Mantis got his code." Snake didn't understand the situation at all. He brought all his cards to the table to get two minds working on this problem.

"That's impossible! Both of us had psychic dampeners to protect us from psychometric tampering of our brains. Are you sure you heard him right?" Baker smelled something fishy about the whole ordeal.

"Yeah, I'm sure. That's one of the last things he said," Snake replied. 

"So the DARPA Chief is he okay now?" Baker asked.  
"Dead..." Snake tersely gave away.  
"What?! That can't be! You know, that's not what you promised, Jim!" Baker couldn't contain himself and futilely attacked the messenger in front of him with his cane.

"Now you want to shut me up?!" Baker was in a full tantrum now.  
"Calm down! What's wrong with you? I just told you I was here to save you. I didn't kill the DARPA Chief. He had a heart attack or something..." Snake mumbled.  
"A heart attack? Oh, don't be a fool." Baker quietly murmured.

"Alright, why don't you tell me what's really going on here? I'm sick of being sent on a wild goose chase. I want some answers. Now," Snake demanded.

"Alright, you deserve that much. To begin with, this isn't really a nuclear waste disposal facility. The whole topic is just a global game of hot potato. Not only that, but several pounds of MUF are reported every year."


	9. MUF

Snake was glad to find a break in the nuclear ethics lecture. "MUF?" Snake perked up.

"It stands for 'material unaccounted for'; don't get too excited," Baker nipped, "Anderson and I needed this joint venture. The world calls for wetwork, and we answer. No greater good. No just cause." 

Baker, in his suit and overcoat, with the displaced arm and lame leg brandishing a cane, reminded Snake of his former master who just recently contacted him. The sunglassed instructor had a gentler core marred by irascible ire borne on the edges of warfare.

"And? Is that all?" Snake did not hesitate to push the injured old man for more information.

"An optical disk. All the data collected from this exercise is on it. They don't know this disk exists. Make sure you report this to Jim, your boss." Baker handed Solid a brass colored, magneto optical disc, encased in clear Plexiglas to the visual effect of a floppy diskette. 

"Who's this 'Jim'? I report to someone else." Snake was genuinely confused and curious about this high ranking Jim fellow.

"Houseman. He's in charge of your whole operation, I assume. He's always trying to string people up to do what he wants, even if some of those intentions aren't entirely bad for the country. Why he even put both Donald and I up to th...ungh!"

Baker keeled forward, restraining his chest from something happening inward. With a grunt he violently outstretched his person to its maximal volumetric extent, and forced words out of his mouth. "It can't be! So those Pentagon bastards, they actually went and did it!"

"What's wrong? No, not again," Solid Snake tended to the old man experiencing grand mal seizures.

Kenneth Baker did his best to mutter out, "They're just using you for...." Dramatically, Baker stopped moving, and Solid was left perplexed and frustrated at the futility of the situation. He took a knee and called Campbell.

_140.85_

"Roy, you better start giving me some answers; now Baker's dead too!"

_"I have no idea.... Listen, Snake I want you and Meryl to work together. You know her situation already, and she'll be able to give you the answers you need."_

"Can I trust her?"

_"More than you can trust me."_

"......."

_"In any case, you should contact Meryl by codec."_  
**"Wasn't her frequency written on the back of that CD case?"**  



	10. Back of That CD Case

Snake spared a moment of confusion. He did the first logical action that came to mind and read over the MO disk cover.

"'Metal Gear test data,' huh?" There was no codec frequency number. The letters written did not seem like code, first one that came to mind being some association of "13 7 20 4".

Checking Baker's body for any clues, all he found of use was a Lv. 2 PAN card. Taking that, Solid Snake retraced his steps and entered the corresponding depot with his newfound keycard.

Inside he noticed something was off; a delineating border running up the walls, ceiling, and floor could be seen with nothing else in between. There didn't seem to be any glass, so Snake lit up a cigarette and blew some smoke into the area. Sure enough he saw a thin band of red light at about waist height. Carefully crawling underneath it and blowing more smoke around, Snake reached the FAMAS on the other side with two magazines. He exited that room, and attentively made his way back to the elevator.

///////////////

Up on ground level, Snake stole to his left to test his card. The giant blast door on his left silently refused to budge, but the one to his forefront swung open with a jolt. 

Inside he noticed a guard dozing in and out of sleep. He remembered the guard posted in front of the vent on the first floor at the heliport, and deduced that some, if not all, of the NGSF could sleep on their feet when the opportunity presented itself.

Silently, Solid tip-toed in and grabbed the box in the corner. Recognizing the contents inside it as a flash and sound suppressor, he hid behind some crates and tried fitting it to his SOCOM Mk. 23's threaded barrel; it fit like a glove.

Wanting to make sure the can wouldn't blow up after a single round, he unscrewed the silencer and released his mag. He then stripped a single cartridge out, and inserted the .45 round, bullet first, into both ends of the baffled cylindrical weapon accessory. 

The bullet fit down to the juncture of bullet and casing, but went no further. This assured Snake that the suppressor will not only permit the large .45 inch diameter of his bullets, but that this silencer is most likely specific for that caliber. He reinserted the cartridge into the magazine's lips, loaded the mag into the firearm, and screwed the suppressor back on with confidence.

Stepping out, he climbed the stairs and avoided the camera to explore the second level. He entered the previously impregnable, first door to his right, only to stop dead in his tracks; he had fallen in love at first sight.

He no longer cared for the daft mission; it was clear that he was being used to further some politician's personal gains. His mission was kaput anyway as his persons of interest were indefinitely incapacitated the moment he got into contact with them. 

He has a primary rifle (le Fusil d'Assaut de la Manufacture d'Armes de St-étienne), a sidearm (the complete Special Operations COMmand Mark 23 weapon platform [pistol, LAM, and suppressor]), and some pineapples (M67 fragmentation grenades). He's in an enclosed, cozy room on the top floor of a heavily sheltered facility, thus thrice protected from cold.

Lastly, he discovered the love of his life he never knew he had, a simple cardboard box. No one else could love it like he does, and he was just fine with that. The world is safe from disaster now; Solid Snake has found his home.

He would sit out of the remainder of his mission, turning his codec down to miniscule levels, letting humans run their rat races, all the while as the world kept spinning, one day at a time.


	11. Meryl's Saga

_When we last saw Meryl:_

Firing at the man in the sneaking suit chasing after her in the first floor basement, Meryl closed the elevator doors and took to the surface. She would need her game face on to survive the trials that lay ahead for her.

Peculiarly, she felt awash with a sense of dread, not nausea as the feeling was deeper than her stomach. It was deeper than even her bowels, and cloistered around her loins. It was uncannily similar to arousal, but it was distinctly unpleasant, almost unwanted and intrusive.

She knew clinically about combat high and the short term effects of adrenaline dumps; this was not it. She felt the sense of horror and revulsion begin to manifest more strongly, and she feared she would fall off the edge and never get back up if she didn't do something.

Anything. So took to a squat, forearms resting on her knees, and breathed deep and hard to induce hyperventilation. Thoughts trickled down like a coffee drip machine, and she began to remember her training.

"Try and remember the basics of CQB," she repeated to herself, "It's sure to come in handy."

The phantom was gone. The elevator loaded up to ground level.

The door opened to the tank hangar, and she saw the eponymous vehicle rotate on its axis toward her general direction.

!

Meryl steeled herself for her impending doom and hunkered down into firing stance to meet her maker head-on. Shouldering the rifle, she aimed at the tank - anywhere on it - and pulled the trigger.

CLICK

The loudest sound in the world met her pulsing eardrums. She loosed an exasperated sigh, a sigh of release, and accepted her fate.

"Hu ha ha ha! Luck was not on your side today, rookie," rang the tinny voice from the loudspeaker of the tank. A large, greenish-tan man somehow squeezed out of the tank hatch and exposed his torso to greet the soldier who attempted fire upon his tank crew. "Did no one tell you? Today's the day we get to use this hunk of junk. Come on! You can ride with us this day."

Meryl visibly relaxed, and drew her barrel down to the ground to indicate concession. Cooling herself down and letting her finger off the trigger, she had no reason to hide her genuine relief at not facing the wrong end of a tank turret.

The blast doors to her left groaned open, and she waited for the tank to trudge ahead of her. She heard the sound of a generator winding down, and a soldier emerged from the other side, "Infrared is down. Come on through!"

The rumble of the M1 Abrams main battle tank shook her down to the core, and embarrassingly she felt moisture condensate on her inner thighs. Whether it was sheer terror or another emotion that loosed her floodgates was of little concern to her as she had to get a move on. 

The MBT was escorted by Meryl and around half a dozen soldiers who collectively entered the airlock; the blast door closed behind her, and after the air was artificially removed the opposite door opened out into the expanse of the canyon. This narrow physical feature was the only connecting path between the tank hangar and the nuclear warhead storage facility and laboratory.

As the team walked down the canyon, Meryl noticed some troops stayed behind and began placing claymores on the path. Taking in the rest of her surroundings, she noticed a small area in the western cliff that seemed a bit odd. Upon closer inspection, she realized it was a small crevice.

Seeing lines in the snow leading in and out of the entrance, she wondered if any critters made their way through here. She thought of the poor mice having to survive in this wasteland, and thought back to the serpentine man from earlier, who helped her hold off against waves of murderous fireteams, and whom she thanked by lobbing bullets of her own in his way.

She felt a growing pang of guilt arising on her broad shoulders, and hoped the man survived the task ahead of him, wherever he may be. She decided to leave the crevice alone, and returned back to the Abram's side. 

================

_"Hrk, huh?" Solid Snake woke up from his comfy daze underneath the box, and checked through the carrying handle aperture for any signs of trouble. He could swear he could still hear the incessant codec ringing in his inner ear, but he had used a 5.56NATO cartridge to disable the earphones, and knew it was just Pavlovian conditioning that made him react this way._

_He thought of the last lead he had, and the woman in the cell whose number he was never able to attain. Oh well, back to sleep, he went. Humanity can deal with its own problems; the world will keep spinning, and Alaska will still be cold._

================

"Hhgh," Meryl shivered. The bright-as-day landscape was illuminated by the chilling moonlight, giving the canyon an eery, sickly glow. Her observation was interrupted by communications chatter coming from the open manhole of the main battle tank turret. A moment later, the same topless man from earlier who teased Meryl emerged calmly.

"We need more hands in the storage facility. You all fall in there. I will deal with the Snake myself."

Following orders, Meryl led the way onward to the facility and laboratory.


	12. I Will Deal with the Snake Myself

With the snowy canyon to their backs, Meryl led the team into the nuclear warhead storage facility airlock. At the end of the catwalk to her left, the soldier awoke from his daze and dropped something as he closed off the blast door that faced the canyon. He opened the interior doors and shouted down, "Try not to fire right at the nukes, got it rookies?"

"Try not to sleep on the job, poser," said one of the squad mates on Meryl's team. The rest joined in on the laughter as the recipient of the ridicule pretended not to hear him and went back to minding the control panel. The squad advanced into the main storage hangar.

Surprisingly, Meryl recognized the truck inside as the same one outside by the heliport. She wanted to go right ahead and ask, but not wanting to be thrown into the brig again she opted not to ask suspicious questions.

Some of her teammates apparently received prerogatives ahead of time and began routing between the warheads on their own set paths. Cautiously she followed the largest group up the stairs and joined them in the elevator.

vvvvvvvvvvvvDING

The first basement floor was swanky, if she had to put a label to the layout. The wood vinyl finish on the walls and ambient lighting crafted a creepily welcoming atmosphere to the hall. Foreboding music crept around the hall but no one seemed to pay it much mind. 

The group veered right to the men's bathroom, and though Meryl knew better than to join in, she couldn't help but feel her curiosity getting the better of her. Joining the men, she suddenly was hit with the possibility that if she were caught, the men may decide to have some fun with her before turning her in to be most likely executed.

Her fears were abated, however, when she saw a man relieving himself into a standing urinal. Her sight jarringly blurred where the man's hip should be, completely dismissing the fears she had stepping in. At the profoundly confusing and non sequitur nature of the censor, Meryl had to suppress a giggle. "Those nukes must have wreaked havoc on my brain, because last I checked, men had penises, not emanating blurs down there," Meryl thought to herself.

At the wash basin, one soldier addressed her, "We're going to need a team downstairs to rig the floor. FOXCOM says we need to keep the doctor from running off and flirting with Sniper Wolf again."

Meryl finished washing her hands and smoothly granted a silent nod of assent at the soldier, walking toward the hand dryers. Seeing the rest of the team come away from their lavatories (without washing hands), Meryl led the way back to the elevator.

She thanked herself for having prior knowledge of the layout of most of this base already, as her confidence would have waned had she not. In Shadow Moses, a slip of confidence meant a death sentence.

vvvvvvvvvvvvDING

On the second floor basement, the team passed through the airlock to a clean hallway lined with a metal grating floor. There were engineers on ladders setting up gun turrets, and a rash of scientists and researchers milling about with worry. Their chatter coalesced to the point where even Meryl could not care to hear their individual concerns.

The PA system rang from the corners of the hall, "Attention scientists and all non-combatants, you are to reconvene at the cargo bay entrance for immediate deportation. Do not forget to surrender your PAN security cards when you arrive before boarding. That is all."

The cacophony of panicked shouts of disapproval rang throughout the hallway. Lab coats ruffled and began loudly demanding explanations and some measure of compensation for their previous efforts. Meryl noticed, however, that all the other soldiers had slightly slacked their shoulders forward, some even fingering their FAMAS triggers. She had to act fast.

BRRRT

She discharged a 3-rd burst of full auto fire into the ceiling. She kept her barrel up and lowered her gaze onto the rest of the occupants of the hallway. With nary a peep by neither soldier nor scientist, all began shuffling to their designated destinations. The lab teams left the floor via the north elevator, and the engineers finally finished installing the automated turrets and followed after the researchers. 

One of them before leaving turned back to Meryl, being the clear team leader in charge, and gave new instructions, "Orders from the top: this floor is to be electrified and completely gassed to prevent one last holdover, Dr. Emmerich, from leaving. In fact, your team here is supposed to make sure no one comes in or out of his lab. That is all," and the engineer left for the upper floor. 

The soldiers immediately went for the doctor's main lab, clearly marked "Hal's Lab Keep Out" on the airlock door. After the door closed, a strong electromagnetic hum buzzed behind then and the faint smell of exhaust began seeping through. Thankfully the airlock evacuated the toxic gases before concern set in, and the soldiers were indeed very grateful for that. Then the other door opened.

In the middle of the gun-blue corridor was a swordsman wearing a mask. The mask had one red eye in the center and sat atop an exoskeleton adorned with armor plate in non joint areas. He held the sword underhand, and slowly turned to face the soldiers. Within a frame, he closed the distance.

**"Now make me feel it!  
Make me feel alive again!" **


	13. Make Me Feel Alive Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://youtu.be/mbWf13eVX8M  
> MGS2 secrets for Raiden reference.

The cybernetic organism dashed into the fray and made a couple imperceptible yet jerky movements before halting to a stop in the dead center of the group Meryl soldiered with. The troops at the front of the formation went slack as the tops of their heads began to slide and interminably fall off.

The cyborg slowly turned to regard the soldiers surrounding him, and without any warning began spinning in place rapidly. One soldier panicked and began firing, triggering the others to do the same. Meryl, having seen this in VR before, hit the floor to save herself from friendly fire.

"That's good! But where is my friend?" a tinny, male voice said. Meryl looked up to see what he meant, just as the soldiers careened back and spewed blood from their carotid arteries. She realized he was referring to the second remaining soldier, bunched up unarmed in the corner of the corridor. He let out a frightened sneeze, and sniffled like a cowardly puppy.

She knew the metallic man's skill with a sword was not just for show, and if she stayed on her belly the boy would be impaled. She fired a burst to save him, but the shock from dropping to prone must have disengaged something in the convoluted FAMAS internals. The cyborg had already deflected each fired bullet with breakneck speed and accuracy, and he took his time stalking towards her instead.

In a last ditch effort, she released her unemptied magazine near her shoulder and threw it high to draw the metal man's attention upwards. The magazine distracted the ninja, who promptly sliced it with his high frequency vibroblade, which blinded his view from the woman underneath who shot in for the ankle and crotch.

Drawing from her middle school and high school wrestling, she attempted to combine an ankle pick and nut check to neutralize her opponent. The ninja fell on his rear but rolled to a back extension quickly; Meryl noted just how hard his cup was and vowed not to punch there with a fist again. The boy in the corner shrunk deeper into himself to make himself a smaller target in the ensuing mêlée.

"Good! Now we fight as warriors.  
Hand to hand! It is the basis of all combat.  
Only a fool trusts his life to a weapon."

The ninja twirled his sword like a baton and it disappeared in the magic of hammerspace. Stuck in the L corridor that led the way to Dr. Emmerich, Meryl deliberated just letting the ninja past and have his way with the weapons scientist so she and her young male comrade could make their escape to safety. Something about how deliberately focused the ninja was on her, however, implicated that he was not leaving without taking one of their lives. She faced the fight or flight response with a fundamental combination.

Jab, straight right, right roundhouse. 

Punches to the chest and kick up high. Surprisingly they all landed dead on on the ninja. He then slipped to her left and threw a combination of his own from southpaw. 

Open hand jab, rear palm strike, counterclockwise jump and spin to left spinning heel and right roundhouse.

Meryl's left hand guarded the ninja's right strike but she was open to the left straight down the pipe. Closing her guard in the center, the cyborg's left kick hit her on the jaw and the following right instep landed across the back of her head. She blacked out for a moment, feeling hotly embarrassed at having her hips and legs sprawled onto the cold floor after the blows. It was doubly embarrassing being felled in front of the boy.

"I'm here~ Hurry up and catch me~" 

The sing song lilt in his taunt struck two chords in the redhead's nerves: fear and ire. The cyborg could pull his sword out at any time and - to use a contemporary colloquialism - slice her into sashimi, but he chose to toy with her. Was it because he could tell her gender? If so was it from a grunt that escaped her feminine vocal cords out of her control, or were her fighting efforts betraying her female level of strength and skill? 

Either way she felt like a cornered fox that was being hunted down just for being a fox. The inhibitions inculcated into her by VR image training were becoming undone by the adrenaline washing over her brain waves. She couldn't care about any moral justification for beating this man for no other reason than self preservation at this point.

And really, wasn't that the whole point of her choice of childhood up to this point? For handling life or death situations like this better than if she had not trained her whole lifetime for such a scenario? 

_ABC; attack by combination won't work this time. Then I'll give him ABD. Simple, and it will work, simply because I will it so._

Jab, shifting/step-in rear straight, jump spinning left heel to the chest.

Fortuitously, Meryl's boot landed on the ducking head of the cyborg and clearly rocked him. She went in to capitalize but remembered the basics of close quarters battle, one of which is to never headhunt a seemingly wobbled opponent. Instead she dug for the body.

High rear hand open palm just to smother the eye sensor, closed fist liver shot, right low kick.

The ninja apparently really did not enjoy body shots, as his exoskeleton began sparking.

"Like old times?  
I've been waiting for this pain!" 

The cyborg was projecting his memories onto her, a complete stranger. She stayed in a ready stance for any tricks up the ninja's sleeve, but when none came, she followed up with her second ABD.

Rear palm strike, liver shot, and loose collar ties dragging his head down for a sideways upward knee.

He staggered clumsily backwards but kept his feet planted, swaying as if he were kelp underwater. "That's it.  
I remember, that shot!" 

In full CQB mode, Meryl reacted on reflex to the word "shot" and squatted down with a ramrod straight spine, lunging forward from a lower elevation into the cyborg's hips. Getting in on his legs, Meryl grabbed his thighs and drove her head into the obliques of the steely ninja. He was clearly taken by surprise as he did not counter the takedown. He attempted to aerial cartwheel out of the slam but Meryl's dogged persistence kept his strong legs together until the exoskeleton hit the floor.

Controlling his side, Meryl sliced her knee across the ninja's belly and kneeled over his ribs. She threw down open palms into the cyborg's helmet to concuss his brain inside the metal noggin. Instead his voice came through smiling lips:

"Do you remember?  
The feel of battle!  
The clashing of bone and sinew." 

Lastly, Meryl bent an arm from above, and dropped her elbow straight down, dead center into the mask.

.......rrrRaughhhhhh

Meryl was hit by both shock and shockwave and was tossed into the ceiling by a concentric sphere of electrified air surrounding the Cyborg Ninja (Greg Eagles).

"The mediciiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine!" shrieked the cybernetic man. He rolled on the ground until he got to all fours, and began beating his face into the ground like a dog trying to kill its prey.

"I-I'm losing myself...." 

He let out another roar and began running toward the other soldier. The young man wet his pants, leaving an unsightly stain on the floor. It mattered not, however, as Meryl dove in in front of him and braced for impact.

The ninja instead jumped into the ceiling above their heads and mysteriously disappeared, leaving a haunting echo in his wake.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," the boy behind her blurted, and he reached around to hug her from behind. Unfortunately, he recognized the soft mounds as female breasts, and the unmistakable muscle tone of the woman's body. "Meryl?" 

Ah, she recognized _that_ voice. It was Johnny. She just risked her life to save Sasaki.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been watching a lot of anime and game narrative reviews by Super Eyepatch Wolf, Digibro, and many others as of the time I'm writing this missive. There's not a lot of polish or allusory setup with my writing, but I'm starting to think that's not such a bad thing. Let me know how my fiction comes across to you, because as much as writing these stories is mostly self fulfilling exercise rather than service for the reader, part of why I write is to get some ideas out there, which granted are not original by provenance in the first place.


	14. The Joy of Battle

The adrenaline dump from the previous fight was wreaking havoc on Meryl's senses. Her face was flushed. Her nipples were peaked. Her lower abdominals were aching for _something_. And her clitoris was engorged.

For the first time since psychotherapy, Meryl was feeling horny.

Johnny was already in the middle of backing away after accidentally groping his savior's breasts, but Meryl turned in place and drove her hips into his already bulging crotch. Perhaps he got excited by the fight, too? 

"Ooh, Johnny...," Meryl cooed. She pulled his balaclava down to access his lips. She did the same with her own ski mask and pressed their lips together. This wasn't love; it just felt like the right thing to do after such a life threatening encounter. Honestly, the two of them had dreamt of this at some point in their turbulent lives.

The primal lust of the stronger female added weight to Meryl's actions. She took off her gloves and pulled away from the kiss to yank her ski mask off. She did the same for Johnny without his express consent, and ripped his shirt open. She used both hands to grab Johnny by the neck and take his lips yet again into a kiss. His bare chest dug into her clothed breasts, but she was more interested in the act of taking what was hers instead of anything more complicated like skin to skin contact or sexual parity.

She gnashed lips and teeth together with her impromptu lover until she couldn't take it anymore. She caught herself grinding on his hips, and threw all caution to the Aleutian wind. She unzipped his pants and dragged it just low enough for his bare ass to hit the floor, and for his penis to emerge.

"Æhchoo!" Johnny sneezed violently. Onto Meryl's chest. The offwhite, sticky phlegm on her uniform, right in the middle of her breasts was an absurd sight to behold. Johnny began to stammer and apologize, but Meryl simply ducked her head down. And she began to giggle.

"Hehehehheh!" the titillating giggling erupted cutely from the rapacious redhead. She showed no discomfort in crooning forward for another kiss, phlegm and all, and began to descend. She nibbled at his nipples, enjoying the salty sweat that looked the dark brown areolae. She kissed lower and lower, until she got to his happy trail. The line of golden brown hair revealed his natural hair color, and Meryl tucked that idea under her mental arm when she went down on him.

Taking his cute member into her mouth, she delighted in sucking and licking it back to life. It grew in her mouth like a living creature, until it surpassed her mouth size and began _pushing_ her head away from the base of his cock. Her lips were sealed and ran down the length of his member.

And then she felt it. "Uhhnnnn," Johnny let out. He unloaded into her throat, which sucked it all in straight down her esophagus. She felt the warm stickiness every inch of the way down her neck and into her stomach, and could not believe how satisfying _giving_ a blowjob was. She languidly continued giving him the mouth pleasure, until she felt him come back to life some moments later.

Unfortunately for her, ejaculation was a release of his haziness and gave him a moment of clarity: "Meryl! How the hell did you escape the jail cell? There was a fully armed security team."

Meryl looked up from his crotch, a full view of her hair, forehead, eyes and face, and her lips wrapped around his cock. Johnny went hazy again. "Oh, God. Meryl...."

She pushed and pulled his skin until his foreskin was completely pulled back by the fullness of his dick's engorgement. She stood up to her feet and shoved her crotch into his face. "Take of my pants."

The order took a moment to crystallize in Johnny's mind. "Wha?" 

Meryl pressed her hips into his face again. "Take off my pants, now."

Sasaki took his trembling, unsure hands and reached up to unbuckle and unzip. He unsteadily began pulling her pants down to her knees, but stopped when he could not pull them down any more. Meryl put her hands on his head for balance, and kicked her leg through and out of her pants, repeating it for the other leg. Because of the tight boots, she elected to invert her pants instead of taking her pants off completely.

Now she was ready. His dick had gone slightly flaccid, but Meryl's ass on his pubes cured that instantly. She pulled her panties at the crotch aside, and positioned her pussy on the head of his cock. She drew the his dickhead up and down the length of her vulva, filling the boat out with his precum. "Johnny, you ready?"

Now she asks for consent. Johnny wordlessly agreed by grabbing her hips and lowering her lower body onto his lap, burying his cock into her pussy down to the hilt. After a couple of slides in and out, Meryl felt herself getting wet, her vaginal canal adjusting to the situation by providing natural lubricants. Now she could get busy.

Johnny never failed to disappoint, however. He came into her as soon as she was ready to start pumping. The cum shot into her vagina, hitting the cervix with a couple drops. His penis began to fade, fading farther and further away from her womb. This wouldn't do. She would not stand for this.

Though, she ironically did. Standing up so her crotch was at his face level again, Meryl buried her pussy into his face. She pushed off her toes to grind her orange pubes into his nose, her erect clitoris into his mouth. Luckily for him, her cum leaking vagina stayed back enough for him not to have to smell or taste himself. He focused on his new task, and gave mouth pleasure to her, specifically onto her man in the boat.

Sucking her clitoris dry, Johnny used his lips to extract the bead of pleasure out of its hood. Meryl dug her hands into Johnny's golden brown hair and stayed herself for what was to come. And cum she did, just strong enough to drop out of her pussy and down her inner thighs. Being female, however, meant that it was never enough. She needed more to be satisfied, and so she took him into her yet again.

By this point, Johnny had gotten hard enough to enter Meryl's opening without pain. Passions grew and they resumed right where they left off with Meryl pumping short squats over and onto Johnny's crotch. His lap covered with Meryl's juices, he tried his best to focus more on what he could do instead of letting pleasure take him out yet again. He clenched his glutes everytime Meryl sat down to take his cock in balls deep, punctuating each thrust with a nice pop at the bottom.

They bumped their private parts into each other in sync, and the climax was close at hand. When Meryl finally felt the big one, she covered Johnny's lips with her own to muffle the cries of pleasure. Johnny went stiff, and grabbed Meryl's hips into a hug to stop the motion. His glans resting close to her cervix, Johnny ejaculated fiercely into Meryl's vaginal canal. 

The hot fluids that hit Meryl from the inside made her see white. She just had sex with her captor and enemy. They were pretty much strangers in a strange military complex on a remote island that the whole world wanted to bomb off the map. And Meryl Silverburgh just now gave her virginity to Johnny Sasaki.

The world could nuke itself to hell for all that she cared. She had her slice of warmth right here.


End file.
